


the devil can't get your soul

by ironwreath (broodingmischief), solfell



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: F/M, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Love Confessions, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other, Platonic Relationships, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22798015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broodingmischief/pseuds/ironwreath, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solfell/pseuds/solfell
Summary: Text RP shenanigans featuring:Exandria's sappiest tiefling couple to ever fall in loveWhat could be a buddy cop duo except neither of them are cops, would never be cops, one of them has authority issues, and the other is an active assassinCihro and Union written by ironwreathKishore and Twill written by solfellCross-posted from tumblr.
Relationships: Cihro & Kishore, Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Male Character(s) & Original Non-Binary Character(s), Twill/Union





	1. Light (Twill & Union)

**Author's Note:**

> teamwork makes the meme work
> 
> [Related works about Union](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22796164)   
>  [Related works about Cihro](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795222)
> 
> [General works about Twill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795882)   
>  [Shippy works about Twill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811995)   
>  [Related works about Kishore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22816777)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Union and Twill's first meeting

Heaven’s Stair overlooks the city, grim and ringed with faint clouds. Somehow the mountain is less intimidating than the Stormlord’s statue that towers over the Braving Grounds. When Twill left the timberlands and entered the district, the statue seemed to be more than just a fixture of the skyline. The Stormlord’s eyes follow her, like the eyes of the people in the streets.

She keeps her head down, and fights to ignore the prickling feeling running down her back. The sun sets, dipping behind Heaven’s Stair, and the spring air turns cool. Does she have enough money to stay in one of the inns? She has very little frame of reference for how much things cost, and her coin pouch feels hazardously light.

The sensation of being watched doesn’t make sense. None of the people here look at her longer than a few seconds, as they probably do with all newcomers. And she knows, she knows, that the statue is little more than hewn stone. He wouldn’t be looking at her anyway, would he? It’s been three years since she left home, and she’s survived on her own for this long. Survival, especially the kind that’s carried her this far, isn’t worth looking at. It isn’t the sort of strength she can wear with pride.

It crushes her. Even now, in the cradle of human civilization, the feeling of being alone smothers any strength she might have. The Stormlord, if he deigned to look, would see that. She shouldn’t have come here–to the south or into the city, she isn’t sure which. Is it too late to turn back?

Maybe it is too late, especially once she happens upon one of the districts temples. She can’t help but step towards it, can’t help the naked longing on her face. The Everlight’s temple is made of golden brown stone, a warm contrast with the staid greys and whites of the buildings around it. The main doors are open, and the light pouring out seems all the brighter with the day fading fast.

She’s watched moths singe themselves by getting too close to an open flame. How it would look to be struck down in the middle of a temple? It’s a little bit fitting, and she finds herself taking the stairs that lead to the temple doors. Sarenrae is patroness of redemption. Twill will leave that up to her.

Inside, there is more warmth and light. The rumble of the city quiets. The few voices here are softened, faint. Above are vaulted ceilings; ahead are rows of pews flanked by semi-private alcoves. There’s a statue of Sarenrae above the altar, and Twill approaches, trying to see her face better.

White and red draw her eye. There’s… a tiefling in one of the alcoves to her right. Most everyone else here is human or elven. She didn’t expect to find another tiefling here, and maybe now would be a good time to leave?

Instead, she creeps closer, curiosity getting the better of her. He seems to be praying or mediating, or maybe waiting for something? In Fyrkat, she was precluded from religious activities. She isn’t sure what people actually do in temples. Maybe he’s taking a nap. This is a nice quiet place for it.

Her creeping doesn’t last long; in her attempts to shuffle stealthily, she runs her toe into a pew and nearly knocks it over. Wood scrapes over stone, and it feels like a whip crack in the tranquil air.

“Fuck,” she blurts, too loud, and she freezes where she stands, not quite in the process of falling over. Her eyes go wide.

–

Warm, resplendent, and smelling strongly of incense, it’s easy for Union to fall into a meditative trance while praying. The Temple of Sarenrae is everything Regis said it would be and more, and every second of discomfort borne on the ship overseas is made up for.

He came with a purpose. Arriving in Vasselheim was considered completing one’s pilgrimage regardless of where you went and he was happy to sit in her temple with nothing but the satisfaction of making the journey. Walking in, though, he felt her presence stronger than ever, like she was welcoming him home. He sits on his knees, clasps his hands, and beseeches her for guidance on his sister.

She speaks to him. She addresses him by name, then, “You will be called to a task not meant for you, but will answer all the same.”

She recedes. Not entirely, but to leave him alone with her wisdom while she drifts off to tend to others within her sanctuary. This is the second time he’s heard her, his first being when he received her gift of magic. He’s chased that light ever since, taking pinches of what he felt and throwing it out into the world as holy fire.

He’s unclear what she means, but he’s elated to have heard her voice at all. He knows not to expect a clear guide on what to do, most visions and premonitions are nebulous out of necessity. The gods interfering directly with the world lead to the Calamity.

When would this task happen? Would he know when it arrived? Did he need to stay in Othanzia or leave?

He’s startled out of his reverie by a curse. He twists around from where he’s seated, eye open wide. Standing in the aisle and the source of the curse is a tiefling woman. He gets up and approaches from his alcove before anyone else can.

She’s tall, broad, scuffed, and dirty, with a glaive strapped to her back. Physically, she fits right in with the majority of the people of Vasselheim, all hardened and tough like a calloused hand from the cold and dangerous wilds. If anything, he stands out in the crowd, pristine and white with only the tips of his cloak and his grieves muddied. His mace sparkles with disuse. She doesn’t bear a holy symbol that he can see, but he knows that’s not always an indication of faith.

“Are you alright?” he asks in a softer voice more fitting for a church. He glances down to the slightly-crooked pew. He’d move it back into place but he’s not strong enough for it.

Funny. He almost stubbed his toe on the way in, too.

–

Twill springs into action, lifting the pew up and over, back to its original spot. She makes sure the wood doesn’t scrape, or thud when she lowers it down. She pats the pew once it’s fixed, a non-verbal apology. Maybe she shouldn’t have done that. She isn’t alone here. A red-hot heat flushes her cheeks, and she ducks her head, embarrassed to be seen at all.

It’s a risk, but she dares a look at the other tiefling. He wears the Everlight’s token. Of course he belongs here. Like the temple itself, he radiates light and warmth. He has a kind face, kinder than most people she’s met.

“I’m fine,” she says, then clears her throat. “I don’t think I broke anything, and even if I did, there’s not any real way to treat a broken toe besides time. I learned that the hard way.” Why is she still talking? Stop talking, no one wants to hear this drivel.

“Thanks for, um, asking. I’m so sorry for bothering you. I’ll just–” She gestures back towards the doors. She takes a hesitant step backwards. It’s time to turn around and leave, but her eyes are once again drawn to the statue at the heart of this building. It was wrong to come here, even if her heart wishes to stay.

–

Union’s brow shoots up at the relative ease she moves the pew back into place. He shouldn’t be surprised, seeing her glaive and her size, and he’s met other folks equally strong, but it catches him off guard. Not as off-guard as her swear, but this entire series of events isn’t how he expected his visit to the temple to unfold.

He doesn’t even know if he should be the one intervening since he’s a visitor, but here he is, and she seems skittish and he doesn’t want her to be. The Everlight preaches mercy, compassion, patience, and aiding those who pass through their doors.

“You’re no bother,” he says. He motions for her to come deeper inside, towards the alcove where he’d knelt. “If it really is broken, there’s no shortage of clerics about to look at it.” He smiles a little at his joke, but also in an attempt to pacify her. “What brings you to the temple of the Everlight?”

–

No bother? Twill doesn’t believe that for a single moment, though it’d be nice if it were true. However, empirically, historically, it hasn’t been. Is he actually expecting her to follow him? Is that okay? Her feet are rooted to the smooth floors. She bites at her bottom lip for a moment before she manages to unfreeze and retract that backwards step. She leaves plenty of clearance between her and the surrounding pews.

“There’s other people who probably need clerics more,” she reasons. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore. No one– No one needs to go out of their way for me.” Her attempt to mirror his smile is poorly done, so she gives up on that pretty quick. It’s just a reminder–she hasn’t had much practice smiling in the last few years.

There should be a reason, an answer, to why she came to the city, and why she crossed this holy threshold. No creature acts without purpose; no behavior is inexplicable. Even so, she’s lost. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m here.”

–

“No one would be going out of their way for it. It’s not as though we have a line out the door for our services at the moment and broken bones are nothing to sneeze at.” He keeps saying ‘we’ as if he’s a priest here. He supposes he is, in a way, unofficially. He could prattle on and on about how that’s one of the many reasons the temples exist, but he spares her.

He glances about. Anyone else startled by her outburst seems to have returned to what they were doing.

“It is a bit if a beacon, isn’t it?” he asks, and can’t help but maintain his smile. “Were you drawn here? You wouldn’t be the first.” He blinks, then thrusts out a gauntleted hand. “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Union, of Sarenrae.” Perhaps a name will make her feel more welcome and less of a stranger.

–

She fails at keeping the skepticism out of her expression. Still, his words are kind, so she replies, “I’ll let you know if I break something? I try not to do anything that would cause broken bones. Or other broken things.” Admittedly, she’s pretty good at staying in one piece. Either that, or she’s been lucky.

Lucky doesn’t seem like the right descriptor.

Shoulders hiked high, she ducks into the alcove behind him. There’s no reason to duck–the arched entrance gives her plenty of room. Frankly, the only doorways she’s hit her head on are back in Fyrkat.

“Drawn might be overstating it,” she hedges. “It’s a beautiful building, the doors were open, and I’m not a fan of the Stormlord’s statue. I don’t have a problem with him, not at all, but the statue is overbearing? Is that blasphemous to say?”

She stares at his outstretched hand, blinks twice before remembering that handshakes are normal and need active participation from multiple parties. Ancient muscle memory lets her shake his hand without squeezing too tight or not enough. The leather and metal of his gauntlet are warm, and Twill makes a connection–tieflings have higher temperatures than humans. She’s not an anomaly, at least not in this.

“Hi. I’m Twill.”

–

“Twill.” He shakes her hand. “A pleasure.”

Is that a virtue name, he wonders? He retracts his hand and lands it on his hip. The Everlight’s counsel still percolates in the back of his mind, but he’s lucid enough now to recognize Twill’s hesitation. Her eyes are coal black with no visible irises, but he can tell she’s never once stopped thinking about leaving without having to look at the door.

“No, I don’t think so,” he says. “No more blasphemous than saying you don’t like any other work of art. It might be blasphemous to yell or curse at it, but you’re allowed to have an opinion.”

He wonders a lot of things, then, and tilts his head. He doesn’t want to hold her hostage if she’s desperate to leave, but he wants to get to the bottom of why she’s come even if she’s unsure of the answer herself.

“Are you looking for shelter?”

–

He’s polite. Twill’s a bit startled by that, and confused, but it’s nice. Is he a nice person? Something in the back of her head–similar to the voice that kept telling her to turn around, don’t go to the city–is now saying, yes, he’s good. What little she knows about the Everlight seems to support this. Union of Sarenrae, he said, and anyone of Sarenrae wouldn’t be bad. Or so she hopes.

She’s toeing a dangerous line by hoping for anything, even if it’s just a stranger’s kindness.

“That’s good, I guess. Religion is important here, at least that’s what I’ve hear about Vasselheim,” she shrugs, “so if I can avoid offending people, that would be great. The Everlight will forgive me for swearing, right?” Her face darkens with embarrassment again.

Breath leaves her, partially a sigh. “Technically yes. I didn’t have a real plan once I got here,” she admits. “I can usually make do, but I’m not very familiar with the city. Or cities in general.”

–

Ah. That explains some things.

“I doubt the Everlight minds,” he says. “It’s unlikely she would be cross with you for cussing after stubbing your toe. It’s not as though swearing isn’t permitted, it’s just impolite in a church. If you came here to swear, though, that’s a different story.”

He had privately hoped he’d stumbled across someone interested in worship or was answering a calling, but he’s not disappointed, either. He’s pleased she chose the Everlight as her place to bed down; it’s warm, safe, and he can provide.

“I’m new to Vasselheim myself,” he admits cheerily. “I came here straightaway. I have enough gold for an inn, but I want to save it. As a cleric I can get accommodations here and I’m sure I could do the same for you should you need it.”

He still needs to pay a visit to the Slayer’s Take to fix his gold problem, because while he has enough for an inn, he doesn’t have enough for the boat home. That’s for tomorrow morning’s Union, though.

–

Twill nods, mostly to herself. “Okay, good to know.” She looks over at Sarenrae’s statue, then back to Union. “I’ve heard she’s… kinder than many gods. I’m glad to learn the books I’ve read weren’t lying.” An amused grin pulls at her mouth. “That would be something, though, wouldn’t it? If someone went running around to all of the temples, yelling obscenities? I’d have to admire their guts, if nothing else.

“I wouldn’t want to impose or take advantage of your position here, being new and all,” she says. “I don’t know how long it would take to repay you, but I’m more than willing to work for coin, if you know of any jobs nearby. Or even just directions to a job board.”

–

Union can’t help but return her grin, in part because she’s expressed confidence about his goddess behind kind, but also because it’s probably the first time she’s genuinely smiled. “I imagine they’d be a nuisance more than anything. I would admire their courage if I wasn’t one of the people in said temples.”

He waves a hand, batting away her concerns. “It’s no trouble and you don’t need to repay me. Even if I wasn’t here, the temple should try and provide, especially if you’re willing to do work.

“However,” he adds, “I was going to swing by the Slayer’s Take tomorrow? I need some money myself. They’re a guild here that specializes in hunting rare animals. I don’t know if I’m actually fit to go alone, so maybe they’ll take me more seriously if you come along.” He pauses and gives a single, low swish of his tail. “I think they’re run by a tiefling, too.”

–

Twill searches her memory and she’s heard the name Slayer’s Take before, but she doesn’t know anything about them, besides what Union’s just told her. Still, it sounds like she’d be of some use to the organization, and she really does need coin if she’s isn’t going back to the woods anytime soon.

She hums, and mulls over the suggestion. “I have a lot of hunting and tracking experience, and this,” she gestures to her glaive, “isn’t just for show. Well, it’s not for show at all. It’s the only real weapon I have.” She makes a face at herself. Somehow, she always knew that once she started talking to people again, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

She swallows back nerves and nods her head. “Yeah, alright. I’ll go with you. We can help each other.

“And I wouldn’t mind meeting other tieflings,” she says slowly, not sure if she’s excited or frightened by the prospect. Both, probably.

–

It would be so quick, so easy for him to simply work for the church and earn his money back that way, but he likes to help in other, more dangerous places if he can. He can help those who trickle in and assist the more powerful priests within the temple, or he can run out into the wilds and heal those who are throwing themselves into active danger.

If the Slayer’s Take turns him down he can return, but he won’t know until he goes.

“Wonderful,” he says, clapping his hands together with a little metallic ping. “It sounds like you’re an ideal candidate. I look forward to potentially working with you.”

He begins walking anew, stepping out of the alcove and following the columns back to the center aisle where the statue rests. He waves for Twill to follow and glances over his shoulder. “Now let’s see about getting you those accommodations, yes? We can leave first thing in the morning.”


	2. Friends pt 1 (Kishore & Cihro)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kishore and Cihro discuss Venu's return to herself

Her mother’s been knitting recently; Meera taught her how. Venu says it’s good for strengthening her hands, and keeps her mind focused. It’s unusual to see her without needles and a skein of yarn these days.

She deserves better, somehow, though Kishore doesn’t know what or how. A stab in the dark, but she feels settled enough now in their new home that she’s comfortable enough to invite people over. Overwhelming her mother isn’t the goal; she starts with having just Cihro and Day over for a late lunch.

Once the meal is over, Kishore begins clearing plates from the table. This house came with a matched set of dishes, but Rahul made sure to pack the mismatched set the cobbled together in their first month here. Maybe she should’ve used the nice dishes for company, but no one would care either way.

She stands at the sink, rinsing the dishes, and senses someone behind her.

-

Having a home is a novelty to Cihro. He’s still hardly seen without his cloak and armour outside the house but accepts Kishore’s invitation for lunch dressed in the shirt and pants he wears underneath. A single dagger is belted to his thigh. Paranoia turned back into regular caution during their downtime.

He likes Venu. He likes everyone in Kishore’s family. He thinks about trying for polite conversation at first, some old unspoken rule about being on his best behaviour for his friend’s parents, but around his brother he can’t help but roll out the cheek. She seems to prefer him that way, at his most basic self.

He can’t place his finger on exactly what’s changed in Kishore’s house and he’s still thinking on it when he approaches her in the kitchen. He doesn’t creep, making his presence known with a small knock on the doorframe.

“Want help?” he asks. “Or I could make some tea. Or both.”

-

Kishore half turns, so she doesn’t drip water over the floors. Neelam will throw a fit if she steps in something wet while wearing socks, and Kishore would like to avoid that.

She smiles at Cihro–a gentle quirk at the corner of her mouth. “No need. I’m almost finished.

“But tea would be nice.” She nods towards a nearby cabinet. “Cups and supplies are there. The kettle should be on the stove. Unless Ameya took it again.”

-

“What does Ameya need with a kettle?” he muses more than asks, and gets to work. He’s no expert tea maker. If he wants tea, he orders it, and even then he usually goes for coffee. But it’s therapeutic, boiling water, adding leaves to a sieve, letting it steep. It promises that he’ll be there longer than just cleaning up after eating.

“I’ve drank wine out of a mug, you know,” he says as he fills their cups. He pauses over the third mug and looks up to her. “How many should I be pouring?”

-

Kishore offers a shrug. “I have a feeling she’s trying to catch frogs in the gardens. Why she needs a kettle for that, I wouldn’t know.” Her daughter is an enigma, which is as wonderful as it is perplexing. She adds, “It’s been washed since its last journey outside, I promise.”

The concept of certain drinks only going in specific vessels is strange to her. Though she knows the rules–wine in wine glasses, mead in tankards, tea in teacups–she doesn’t always adhere to them.

“I’ve had wine straight from the bottle,” she admits. “Emery was pleased by that.” The final plate goes into the drying rack and Kishore reaches for the towel hanging by the sink.

“My mother would probably appreciate tea,” she says. “She prefers it with a spoonful of honey, if you don’t mind?”

-

Cihro is also entertained by Kishore drinking straight from the bottle even though he shouldn’t be. He pictures it well enough, the neck of the bottle looking tiny in her hands. It suits any of their party at this point.

“So long as you don’t put your honey on the top shelf, I think I can do that.” He finds it beside the rest of the tea supplies and spoons out a dollop. He stirs it in, his free hand coming to rest on his hip.

“Did she have tea before?” he asks, gently guiding the conversation. He doesn’t know much, but he feels like there’s a bigger purpose behind his visit.

-

“Elspeth makes sure we put the important things within reach.” She won’t be benefitting from that when she leaves with the party, while Kishore stays behind, but she’ll come back. Elspeth will come back and the honey will still be reachable.

Kishore studies Cihro while turning his question over in her head. There are so many ‘befores’ in her life. Her breath leaves her in a half sigh and she leans back against the counter, arms folded loosely over her ribs. “No,” she replies. “We didn’t– I didn’t want to risk her getting burned.

“But that’s only been a concern for the last few months. Tiamat’s slaves aren’t generally given hot food or drinks, of course.” The last part is said with an acerbic sort of humor.

-

Cihro offers Kishore one of the two teas without honey. From the outside Kishore and her family appear to have the domesticity thing nailed down, he forgets that she hasn’t been on the surface all that long. Maybe he’s just out of practise himself.

“What’s changed?”

-

Kishore takes the cup with a nod of thanks. She holds it between her hands, close to her face, but doesn’t drink. It smells clean and earthy.

Answering the question in full would take the rest of the day. Kishore goes with the most immediate answer. “She’s herself again, after being… away for the last eight years.” She frowns. “Day didn’t tell you?”

-

Cihro also frowns, mimicking how Kishore holds her tea, but close to his chest.

“No? We’ve both been busy. Whatever he did, it doesn’t sound like he can fit it in a quick ‘hey so I did something to Kishore’s mom and now she’s herself again.’” He lifts his drink to sip, but he rethinks his decision and lowers it. He leans his arm against the counter, fully facing her.

“So what happened?” he asks, more specific. “What’d he do?”

-

Kishore is oddly gratified by Day’s silence, even if it was partially caused by a lack of time.

“He made a suggestion. The beads we found near Hillonde,” she explains. “He asked Aritian to use one of the spells in the beads on my mother. I don’t know much about divine magic, but it worked. It cleared the fog in her mind.”

Maybe because she’s told the story to so many other people recently, it’s easier for her to speak now. “I once told you that Ameya wasn’t meant to be mine, but I kept her anyway,” she says. “Nothing comes without a cost; my mother made the sacrifice I couldn’t. If I appeared distracted while we investigated the druids, it was because I’d just learned the truth before we left Westruun.”

It doesn’t actually get easier to say, but there’s something healing in speaking the words aloud.

“She left us because she’s strong, and she had no other way to protect herself. Then, there was no reason to try and find her way back. Not with what they made her do.”

-

Cihro sits on her answer for a beat. He doesn’t know what he expected, but he knows that nothing would leave him surprised no matter how horrific. The Cult of Tiamat is just like that.

“Explains why you were drinking so much, too.” Her earlier comment about the wine bottle feels less funny now. “How did you find out before then if she only came back to you recently?”

He stares into his mug. “There’s something I don’t get,” he continues. “What about taking her kid made her that way? The trauma? Or was it some kind of magic? Maybe I just can’t understand, but it feels a little extreme to me.” He purses his lips. “Do you think you would’ve ended up the same way if they took Ameya?”

-

She sips a mouthful of tea, trying to chase away the slowly tightening knot in her chest. It helps, more than she thought it would.

“She had some sort of flashback or night terror before we left for Hillonde. There was a moment of lucidity that had me questioning if what she saw was real, and then Thea confirmed my suspicions.”

It’s not in her nature to be embarrassed, but she feels slightly abashed. “Was I that obvious?” She grimaces.

“I don’t know if magic was involved, or if it was just the trauma. Maybe it was years and years of everything she faced, and then seeing the rest of us face the same, or worse.

“She wasn’t born there like I was. Having freedom taken almost seems more cruel than never having it at all.” Kishore closes her eyes for a moment, feels the sunlight on her back from the nearby window, hears the sound of her mother and daughter talking in the room over, and lets the peace of that wash over her.

She blinks her eyes open and looks hard at Cihro. “No, I wouldn’t have been like her, if things went as planned. I would’ve become something much worse. She had the strength to leave, and not be their pawn anymore. I would’ve let them take me.”

-

Cihro can’t help a small grin. “Not to anyone who’s not looking,” he says. “Those are the kinda things I pay attention to, it’s my job to observe. I don’t blame you, though, honestly. Don’t worry about it.”

He hops up onto the counter next to her, his drink nestled between his palms in his lap. He follows the sound of Kishore’s mother with his eyes, his gaze landing on the open doorway.

“I mean, I’ll take your word for it, even if I disagree. We’ll never know what would’ve happened to you and I’m glad for that. I’m only sorry it ever happened to either one of you in the first place.” He braces his elbows on his knees, bent forward. “I can tell you’re not the only mother on active duty in the house anymore. It’s kinda refreshing to see someone else lighten the load a bit.” He blinks, realizing that’s what seemed so different about their home.

“I bet the answer is no, but do you have any idea what they were gunna use that sacrifice for?”

-

“I suppose I’m allowed at least one unhealthy coping mechanism.” Her mouth forms a there-and-gone smirk.

“I keep reminding myself that what’s done is done. There’s only going forward. Many of the ‘what-ifs’ I ask myself are… worse than what I have now. They’re ‘what-ifs’ I can live with, and not everyone can say that.

“Active duty,” she repeats. “That’s certainly one way to put it. You’re not wrong. It’s a relief to have her back to herself. I feel as if I can take full breaths again. Meera and I did well enough, but our mother was our window into the outside world for a long time. It’s good that she can have a home again.”

Her eyes flicker upward, almost rolling them. “The Prismatic Queen demands blood,” she explains in a tone mocking every person who’s said that before. “I don’t know or understand why, and I’m glad I don’t.”

-

“You couldn’t be a little more creative?” he teases. “I think Day’s got drinking covered, maybe you should pick a new one. But not gambling, because that’s mine.”

He finally takes a drink, but empties half the mug with him. “I know it’s tempting to think about what-ifs. I didn’t really consider them too much until recently just because I didn’t have to think about alternate realities and timelines and the past and future..” He trails off, spiraling his fingers with all the panache of a magic user. “I think a lot of my what-ifs are worse, too, which is why. Someone might wonder how my, uh, professional background could be worse, but if things hadn’t taken place exactly how they did I never would’ve met Day or Talsin.” He shrugs a single shoulder. “Or you lot.”

His grin widens. “Just give her wine and ketchup. It’s what she deserves and she’ll never know the difference.” He blows out a sigh. “I should probably give your mom her tea before it gets cold. Thanks for introducing me and giving me the full story.”

-

She quirks an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t want to tread on any toes, of course. I’ll be sure to work on being self-destructive while you’re gone,” she says. “There’s a decent chance I’ll end up back in the fighting pits. That way my unhealthy habits can earn money.

“It’s a strange place to be, where I can’t justify the bad that’s happened, but I don’t know if I’d choose something different,” she muses. “Would I want to risk any of this for the chance to change one part of my past? Potentially lose the people I have now for some other, unknown timeline? No. I wouldn’t. I can’t, more importantly.”

Kishore snorts. “I would like few things more than dousing her in bad wine and ketchup.” The image of doing so will keep her sustained in the coming days, she suspects. “It’s better than what she deserves.”

Before Cihro steps into the next room, she says, “I’m glad you came over. And thank you. For listening.” For more than that, really, but he likely knows what’s gone unsaid. As he mentioned, it’s his job to notice and know, and for Kishore, his knowing is not a threat. It’s a comfort.


	3. Friends pt 2 (Cihro & Kishore)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two buddies shooting the shit after one of them returns from the cultist hellscape that was Emon

The group hasn’t been in Westruun long. Cihro gives Elspeth privacy with her family first and swings by to say hello after he’s dropped off his things in the main estate.

He’s hugged Kishore on two occasions. He hasn’t been keeping track, it’s just that they haven’t hugged often and it’s easy to remember. He leans into it and holds on longer than expected, balling his fists into her shirt. Kishore gives warm, sturdy hugs, the kind that enveloped completely and made him feel safe without squeezing too tight. He didn’t realize how much he needed it until now.

Kishore says something about looking after Elspeth. Thanking him, he thinks. He draws back.

“I actually don’t think I did as well as I could’ve,” he says. “I think she was always gonna come back changed, but she shouldn’t have had to go through what she did to get there so fast. I can only try so hard to keep danger from getting to her, but I can’t stop her from running out into it, y’know? I think by the end she was mostly looking after herself.”

-

She’s just outside the front door when she sees him coming up the path from the main house. After hearing everything that happened in Emon, she left Elspeth with Emery, Meera, and her mother, and excused herself to go for a walk. Likely a long walk, but then there’s Cihro. Maybe she initiates the hug, maybe he does, or maybe it’s both–she’s relieved to see him, regardless.

When he pulls away, Kishore keeps her hands on his shoulders. “She came back to us. She still has the same smile. Those were not guarantees.” She gives his shoulders a squeeze. “You saved her life more than once, and the way she tells it, she would’ve been far worse off if neither you or Day were there. It wasn’t a situation where you could’ve shielded her completely from danger or fear.

“Elspeth has always been independent,” Kishore says and can’t help but smile. “You are not responsible for her choices. Ultimately, it was her decision to go in my stead, and no one could have stopped her.”

With a wave of her hand, she gestures for him to follow. “Walk with me.”

The estate gardens are vast; even as the season fades into cooler weather, there’s no end to the greenness. “Are you alright?” she asks, voice softer than normal.

-

Kishore’s words are a wash of relief and Cihro visibly relaxes under the squeeze of her hands. He exhales a breath he feels like he’s been holding since they were arrested.

“I always felt like something was out to get her the second I stepped away to take care of something else, even if that something was William,” he says with a wry smile of his own. “I’m not used to looking out for anyone other than myself and my brother. My way of staying safe is avoiding danger, not everyone does that or knows how.”

He falls into step beside her. He knows she could outstrip him but she seems to know the exact pace to accommodate his shorter strides.

“I’m okay,” he says, and tries to mean it. "I don’t know how much Elspeth told you, but a lot happened in Emon. Before I knew it, we were all imprisoned, and – there’s something you should know that the rest of the party learned.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, under his collar, and lowers his voice. “Day and I were – are? – Clasp members. There’s a brand on our backs we can’t get rid of and when they changed our clothes, everyone saw. Those ‘friends’ we’ve mentioned that sometimes send us off on jobs, that’s them.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. Our secrets have always been a matter of safety.”

-

“No one blames you for what happened in Emon,” Kishore says. “You went in blind–if I had known her agents were so deeply embedded in the political structure… I would have gone with. And even if I had, Elspeth would be in the same amount of danger as before.”

Kishore is still processing everything Elspeth said, but then she remembers something that stood out. “Elspeth was… unusually quiet when she told us about being imprisoned. I thought she was embarrassed, or perhaps didn’t want to go into details while Emery listened. He’s horrified that she was arrested at all,” she explains. “It’s not in her character to spare Emery possible drama, so I was going to talk with her later.”

It’s a talk that still needs to happen. Elspeth in privy to information that might strain her relationship with Emery. Ever since he joined the Shields, upholding the law and doing the right thing according to that law has kept him steady, sure of himself. Kishore’s never believed this to be a permanent stance, just a desperate search for purpose after being allowed free will.

Keeping secrets is easy enough, but keeping them from her family feels unnatural. The last time she didn’t tell the truth right away, it nearly ruined her relationship with Meera.

She doesn’t hesitate with honesty now. “I assumed you were part of something like the Clasp based on our conversation before you left, among other things. Knowing the truth explains a lot about you and Day. If you had told me this months ago, I would be frightened, or angry. I’m neither. It would be wrong of me to take offense at others having ties to shadowy organizations.”

Kishore deliberately presses her palm to a spot midway up her ribs, beneath her right arm. “We have brands, too, though they’re not well known. Don’t apologize. I understand why you had to stay silent. Thank you for trusting me with this.”

-

Right. Emery. Cihro quietly appreciates Elspeth maintaining the secret. He didn’t need more cops on his ass. He’ll have to thank her later.

“I’m used to dodging authority,” he says. “Caius and Aritian are Swords, but they haven’t told anyone yet. Aritian trusts that we don’t want to be with the Clasp anymore, but Caius seems less certain. They want me and Day to help them work against the Clasp to prove ourselves.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think they understand what exactly they’re asking us or how impossible it is, or maybe I haven’t explained it well enough since we’ve been busy.”

He nudges a pebble along the path with his foot. “I feel backed into a corner. I keep being told I have to pick a side and then I’m not given any time to make that choice or explore other options. It’s like I’m playing ‘would you rather’ except one option is getting eaten by a purple worm and the other one is getting poisoned by a purple worm. I work for the Clasp, the Swords will incarcerate me and then the Clasp will kill me. I work for the Swords, the Clasp will kill me.”

Laying it out on the table aloud makes it feel like even more of a death sentence. He knows other options exist, but he’s having trouble looking past the two directly in front of him with the push for an answer.

“Thank you for taking it so well.” He nods his head towards her brand. “You’re the one I trust the most with this because you get all the reasons why. If we hadn’t been exposed before we were ready, you would’ve been the first to know.”

-

“But you do want to leave, right?” Kishore’s gut tells her she doesn’t need to ask, but she does anyway. “Is that possible?”

She considers the Cult of the Prismatic Queen, and the size and scope of everything they are and everything they do. If Tiamat’s followers and the Clasp were placed side-by-side, how would they compare? Which is bigger? Which wields more influence? How much blood is pooled at the bottom of all they’ve done?

Kishore could work for a hundred years against the cult, and she’d only deal flesh wounds. Is it the same with the Clasp? Is surviving the only real way to defy them?

“If others knowing you’re Clasp is dangerous, wouldn’t working against them be doubly so? Not only for you, but for those around you? If you pick a side, you’re taking risks for everyone around you. No one should have that power, or right.

“Aritian and Caius put too much stock in rules and laws. It’s black and white for them–either they don’t understand the nuances of your situation or they don’t want to hear them. It isn’t easy, the line you’re walking. I’m sorry you feel trapped.”

It’s strange, strange enough that a bitter, humorless smile flits across her face. “I didn’t expect to meet anyone on the surface who could understand or even share my worldviews. I am grateful for that, and I don’t want to see you or Day hurt because you were forced into a choice you weren’t ready to make.”

Again, she asks a question she already knows the answer to. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

-

“We do. Day especially. When we first met, I was indifferent. Talsin planted the idea in my head ages ago, but I always thought it was impossible or it wasn’t worth the effort. Knowing all of you, it starts to feel a little more probable. I still don’t know if it’s actually possible, though, and maybe we’re better off keeping them as an ally.”

Kishore might have had an even greater understanding of his situation than he did, having lived something adjacent and without having her vision clouded by the proximity of the situation. She could see the forest, he was stuck looking at trees.

He considers her question. “You’re helping right now,” he answers. “Day’s been in a bad headspace so we haven’t really been able to discuss it. It’s hard enough digesting what we saw in Emon, nevermind having to deal with Clasp stuff on top. I feel less alone than I did before.” He shoots her a sincere smile. “So, thanks. I feel better with you at my back. If anything comes up that you can help with that isn’t just talking, I’ll let you know. Caius and Aritian might take you more seriously than me.”

He isn’t used to talking so much. It’s..nice. Ish.

“There’s..more, too,” he adds, slowly. “It gets more complicated, if you’d believe it. I don’t think I can talk about it now. Maybe when we’re out of the city, or when we’re back.”

-

Kishore nods. “You may be right–if it’s possible to ally with them, without being under their control, that would be convenient. Possibly too convenient, or too tenuous to maintain. I assume the Clasp doesn’t like it when their agents show too much initiative.”

Maybe it’s personal bias, but she favors the cutting-ties route. Still, she’s learned that leaving isn’t always so cleanly done. Standing outside a situation so similar, and yet so different, to the one she was in only months ago is bizarre.

“I would be willing to talk with Caius and Aritian, if you think it would help. I’ll try to check in with Day, too. Even if he doesn’t want to talk, he should know I’m glad to listen.”

If there’s anything that she’ll believe these days, it’s that there’s always more complications.

“Of course. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here,” she assures.

-

“I know, it’s wishful thinking, but still sounds safer and more viable than outright leaving,” he says. “If I end up in a position of power they might like what I have to offer them and give me some freedom. It’s not ideal, but I know it can be done.” Assum is a role model; a glimpse into what he can attain if he plays his cards right.

“I think he’ll appreciate that.” If there’s another thing Cihro’s grateful to Kishore for, it’s giving Day someone else to talk to. She provides a fresh perspective. “I don’t need you to speak to them one on one, just having you around when Day and I talk to them would be helpful.” Moral support, if nothing else.

“Thank you,” he repeats with more weight, and reaches out to touch her arm. “Seriously.” He releases her arm after a small squeeze. “Enough about that, though. How’s your time at home been?”

-

“If the council idea becomes reality, you’d accept a position, then? There’s wisdom in that, even if it’s chiefly to protect yourself. I trust you more than I trusted the former margrave.” Perhaps she should be mourning the man, like the rest of the city, but she won’t fake emotions she doesn’t feel. Whoever said that the living shouldn’t speak ill of the dead obviously didn’t have any of their enemies in the ground.

“Elspeth is extremely opposed to being any sort of political figure,” she adds. “The only kind of power she’s ever wanted is personal. Unsurprising, given her circumstances.”

Kishore inclines her head. “I’ll do my best to be wherever you need me.”

Luckily, she’s had more than enough reflection time in the last few days. Her answer is easy. “Good. It’s been good. The city is tense, of course, but there’s a certain peace in choosing to stay in one place. Stand my ground.

“I didn’t have a proper home before now. More accurately, I didn’t allow myself to have a proper home. The other day, I was helping Rahul paint the bedrooms, and I realized… I’d broken those old promises to myself. Once I agreed to talk color schemes with Rahul and Meera, I knew staying detached was a lost cause. I’m not too bothered by the change.” She doesn’t fully smile, but the corners of her eyes crinkle with good humor.

-

“Yeah. I almost laughed when Silvenna suggested it, but it has merit now. It’s not like I’d be suggesting war tactics or anything, it’d be more specialized for what I know, which is espionage and stuff.” Or at least, that’s his guess. If they ask him for anything else, he’ll have to wing it.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” He can’t imagine Theren wanting a position like that, either. There are so many kids in the group, all about as fit to lead as a fifteen year-old son of the margrave. Which isn’t to say not at all, but before their time. “Would you take her position instead? I think you’d do a good job.”

He smiles as he listens.

“It’s good to see you settling. Some promises are meant to be broken. And it sure is nice not having to hike across town to chat, too,” he adds. “We should go for drinks once we have more time.”

-

“I felt similarly, when Elspeth brought it up, but it’s a better idea than one single person having power over the whole region,” she says. A half-sigh leaves her. “I’m resistant to being known, though I know that’s impossible now. People I’ve never met know my name and my face, and as unnerving as that is, I wonder if it’s a blessing in disguise.

“I’m not from Westruun. I’m not part of any decent class of people. There are limits to my skills, and I don’t know if those skills would benefit a political position.” She was never built for notoriety, yet it seems to be finding her slowly. “If I were asked, I might consider it. Having a degree of sway could go a long way in protecting my family and friends.”

There’s a whole litany of reasons why she should want the job, now that she thinks about it. “I would want to be sure that the city’s leaders don’t make any more agreements or deal with the likes of Tiamat or her followers.

“After the battle, we’ll go out,” she vows.

-

“That makes two of us.” He supposes his mother counts as a ‘decent class’ but she abandoned that when she left Syngorn. His father had some clout as an Ashari, too, but that clout was buried with him. The second he started earning more respect in the Clasp, the more dangerous it became. He’s always liked being low on the ladder.

“You’re practical, though, and you have a strong stomach. I think that goes a long way,” he reasons. “I guess there’s always gunna be some kind of trade-off. I don’t think it’d be fair for us to gain power without some risk. We can learn together.” He scoffs. “And I think it’s fair to say they’d be happy to avoid making more deals with Tiamat cultists, unless they infiltrate our council just like they did in Emon.”

Now there’s a thought he doesn’t want to entertain.

“Deal,” he says. “I think anywhere except the Sunkissed Tavern is up for grabs.”

-

Kishore hums in acknowledgement. “I think I might try not to think too much on it, at least until it’s an actuality. It’s a comfort to know that I won’t be expected to flounder all on my own in a new situation, regardless of what happens.”

Framing it that way, as a group learning how to do something new, makes the whole concept a little more palatable. She does wonder if such a position would keep her in the city more often; even though Venu is back to herself, Kishore doesn’t want to miss even the boring day-to-day developments in her family’s lives.

Elspeth, in particular, needs the most support right now. Kishore glances over her shoulder, back at the house.

“I should go,” she admits. “I don’t want to leave them for too long right now.” She turns back, and looks at Cihro. “We’ll talk later?”

-

Cihro follows Kishore’s gaze back towards her home. How long have they been talking? He’s been so involved in what’s said that he hasn’t kept track of how much ground they’ve covered in the garden, but his fingers are cold.

It’s been a welcome respite all the same, and he feels like the knot in his chest has unraveled a bit. He’s more prepared for what’s to come.

“Sure thing,” he assures her, and raises a hand in farewell. “I have some business to take care of, but I won’t be far. Take it easy.”


	4. Heart (Twill/Union)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twill and Union get to kiss each other all the time now!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after [Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811995/chapters/54515812) and [Whirlwind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22796164/chapters/54481057)

Twill’s excitement burns away during dinner, leaving her jittery and borderline anxious. Or maybe that’s just how prolonged excitement feels? Twill isn’t sure. She’s never kissed someone she’s in love with before, so maybe this is normal.

Union’s foot hooked around hers at the table was probably the only thing keeping her from floating away. Oh, she’ll be embarrassed about this later, she’s sure, once she comes down from the high.

He kissed back, she reminds herself. If she was overstepping, he wouldn’t have kissed back, right? Still, she should’ve asked.

Once the table is cleared, dishes washed and put away, Twill grabs Union’s hand. She tilts her head to the side, questioningly, and tugs him towards the stairs. There’s a moment of hesitation, before she decides to go to the room where she stores the few items she owns but doesn’t need with her. It feels more neutral than the room she shares with Union.

The windows face towards the west, and light from the setting sun pours golden in.

“I know we should talk, and I want to,” she says when she closes the door. “But can I just hold you for a minute?”

Her face feels warm; she isn’t sure if it shows.

–

Union might’ve been embarrassed if he wasn’t so endeared by Twill’s excitement. He’s never been shy with his affection, platonic or otherwise, but he’s always cared about appearances and being polite. He’s not sure which crosses what lines, but he’s sure their friends don’t mind the display, either way. He supposes it’s the speed with which it unraveled more than anything. He’s still processing the fact that they kissed at all throughout dinner and that if he tries, he can remember how it felt. It makes his heart flutter and skin prickle every time.

A single question burned at him while she was away that she answered with her return, but more blossom in its ashes.

He follows Twill’s lead and folds his hands over his lap as she closes the door. They don’t stay there long; he smiles, nods, and closes the gap between them to embrace, laying his cheek against her shoulder and tilting his head so his horns are pointed away from her face.

He won’t lie to himself, he’s been touch-starved in the party’s absence. In the few hours they’ve been back he already feels more like himself, a cup full and warm.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” he admits after a still moment, and tightens his hold. “I’m glad you’re home.”

–

“I’m glad to be home,” she says, hands rubbing up and down his back. She kisses the spot between his horns, and just lets herself breathe until she feels steadier. Can he hear her heart pounding, drum-like? Probably, but she isn’t bothered if he knows she’s nervous.

If Twill could, she’d stay like this with him for hours, close and warm and calming. She’s not going to cry, even if she’s feeling a little more than overwhelmed. The shivery feeling coursing beneath her skin eases all the same.

“Not having you around was difficult. We were fine, no one got hurt badly, but,” she sighs, “I think we all were missing you.” She’ll give him all the details of what they didn’t go over at dinner. Later, though. There’s a more important discussion on the table. And if he isn’t sure where to start, Twill can try.

“I’m sorry that I ambushed you like that, at the door,” she continues, eyes downcast. “I should’ve asked, but seeing you standing there, after not seeing you for so long? I let my emotions get ahead of me.”

–

“It is nice to be missed,” he says. “The feeling is mutual. I’m just so glad you’re all alright.”

He withdraws. Not fully; he places his hands on her upper arms and in a similar motion, rubs them up and down. He doesn’t force her gaze, but soaks in her expression.

“It’s alright,” he assures her. “We all fall victim to our own emotions at times. I think something would have happened eventually. In a way, I’m glad it was that. It can make starting conversations like this easier.”

He flashes her a tiny, shy smile. “It felt a bit like you’d brought me a homecoming gift even if you were the one coming home.”

–

She can’t really help the soft expression on her face. “Did you? Think this would happen? I wasn’t going to–I wasn’t planning anything,” she admits. “I didn’t want to assume anything. Or make things weird.

“I’ve never had a conversation like this before.” She huffs a tense breath, and chews at her bottom lip a little bit. “I have no clue what I’m doing.”

She bumps their foreheads together, a quick, gentle tap. “You’re more home to me than any one place. I’m– I’m in love with you.”

–

Union shakes his head. “I’m not one to sit on feelings like these without saying anything for long. The reason it didn’t happen sooner was only because I realized them recently - when we were traveling.” He swallows. “When I woke up.

“I actually had an inkling about yours,” he confesses, his eyes dropping to the floor this time. “But only that. I tried to direct the conversation that way when you taught me how to swim, but it would seem I was too subtle. I should have been more direct.”

He squeezes her arms. “You’re doing fine.”

His chest visibly swells. He knew it, today now more than ever, but to hear it - he reaches up to twine his fingers around the back of her head and lower it down to hold her forehead against his. It’s all he’s ever wanted, to be a home. He closes his eyes.

“I’m in love with you too,” he says. “My heart is yours.”

–

“I’ve loved you since Marquet, so,” she says with a soft laugh. “It’s been a few months. I enjoy being with you, no matter the situation, so it didn’t seem too important to talk about. Being near you was enough.

“I’m not great at subtle. It’s no surprise that you could read me.” Her smile is somehow both cheeky and rueful. “I didn’t even realize that’s what you were trying to talk about. I was a little bit distracted at the time.” Her shoulders rise and drop with a quick shrug.

“What changed? What happened when you woke up?” She didn’t notice a particular difference in him after his surgery, but she was more focused on making sure he didn’t try to get out of bed first thing after waking. Which he very much tried to do.

Breath swoops out of her, fluttering like birds wings. Her eyes fall shut and she brushes her nose against his. There’s heat pressing at the back of her eyes, and she knows she’ll start crying if she opens her eyes again. So, she squeezes them shut and fists her hands at the back of his shirt.

“Thank you.”

–

He gives a short, surprised breath of a laugh. “Marquet? I think you hid it better than you realize. My suspicions were only recent as well, when we returned to the material plane.”

Not being swarmed by oppressive shadows gave him the opportunity to reflect on everything, which meant putting a second lens over how Twill had reacted to his death.

“It’s hard to describe,” he explains, reminiscing. He still feels the weight of her hand in his, bridging the gap between unconsciousness and reality, and curls his fingers. “I feel like we were always reacting to events and were never given the chance to decompress. When I woke up, I was able to see you more clearly than I ever had before, literally and figuratively. I realized you never left my side and I wanted you to be the first thing I saw when I woke up.” He shuffles his feet. “I wanted to kiss you.”

It’s easy to slide his hands to cup her cheeks and lift his nose to press a chaste peck to her lips, then lower their foreheads back together. He brushes the space under her eyes with his thumbs.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he says lightly, almost laughing again, and leans into her fists. “Just take it.”

–

She’s a little proud of herself, for not being incredibly obvious. Well, obvious to Union, at least.

It does make her wonder: was Morjan right? Was she transparent to everyone else? Twill isn’t sure how to feel about that–and she can’t forget the way Morjan said they missed Union, too, that first night without him. There was more being said then, and again during their last conversation.

Union makes a good point–they have a moment to breathe. Nothing dark bites at their heels. There’s time to sift through and savor the things they couldn’t before. There’s time to be honest. “I don’t think anyone’s seen me quite the way you do, even before we went to River’s Rest. I didn’t want to leave you, and I might’ve been too scared to if you’d kissed me then.

“Now, though, you can kiss me as much as you’d like.” She leans back to look at him. A peaceful glow settles within her chest; just being able to see him is enough to fortify her. She swoops down to kiss him again, smiling through it, relishing the freedom to do this without anyone watching.

“I will,” she murmurs. “You have mine, too. For as long as you want.”

–

“I had the same thought as you, then: I didn’t want to presume. And I needed more time to meditate on my own feelings before I did anything decisive.”

He almost thanks Twill, but then he’d be a hypocrite, so he returns her affection twofold, peppering her face with little kisses to make good on her word. “I’ll take good care of it,” he promises.

He glides his hands down to her shoulders to ground himself and cautions a step back. It feels so wonderful, a natural progression, that he’s half-convinced he’s dreaming.

“Dear me, I thought that conversation would last longer. I suppose I should clarify, I’m alright with PDA, I just don’t want to be - you know, making out, or sitting on your lap, as it were,” his face heats up as he speaks, “that’s all. Maybe that’s obvious, but in case it wasn’t, well.”

He clears his throat. “Is there anything I’ve missed?”

–

Twill’s face hurts from smiling, but it doesn’t matter. She practically giggles as he kisses her face, basking in how right this feels. “I know you will. You already have been, really.”

When he moves out of the circle of her arms, she takes his hands and brings his knuckles to her lips. “That seems reasonable,” she says, charmed by the blush on his cheeks. Her thrilled smile shifts into something a little more playful. “Affectionate but not exhibitionist. I can do that.

“You know that I haven’t really done proper relationships, so I’m new to all this. If I do anything wrong, you’ll tell me, right?” she wonders. “I want to learn. I’m excited to learn.”

–

His blush only deepens at the kiss on his knuckles, but it’s a pleased colour paired with a smile, not a blush of embarrassment or discomfort. It’s not like it’s the first time Twill’s done that. He relishes that it won’t be the last.

“Of course,” he says. “I think you’re doing a wonderful job to start, to be honest, but I’m not exactly an expert on relationships myself, either. It requires communication, honesty, vulnerability..I trust that you’ll let me know if I’ve overstepped or done something wrong as well.” He squeezes her hands and strokes his thumbs along the backs of her fingers. “We’ll learn together. You’re still my best friend through all of this.”

–

Twill nods. “Yeah, I will. Definitely.” It’s hard imagining Union ever doing anything hurtful, but she knows that’s not the only reason why people have to talk things over. Even if there are difficult conversations in their future, she looks forward to them, and working with Union to make sure both their hearts are safe.

Union makes her brave, makes her open and willing to try something that used to scare her so badly. He taught her that softness is powerful, and that allowing moments of weakness leads to a greater strength. It’s easy to trust in him, and to trust herself with him. “You’re my best friend, too. I love you,” she adds, because she can, because it makes her happy to love and be loved.

Mostly, she says it because it’s _true_.


	5. Cloak (Twill/Union; Twill/Morjan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twill and Union have a talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sequel to Bid](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795882/chapters/54516091)

Twill trips up the inn’s stairs, but by the grace of the Wildmother she doesn’t fall. Luckily, their room isn’t far and she manages to stay upright the whole way there. Perhaps with more force than needed, she flings open the door, throws herself inside, and slams the door behind her. 

She spins on her heel, eyes wide. “Babe, I think I made a mistake. Or several,” she gasps.

–

Union starts, his brush partway through his hair and snagging at the jerk of his hand. He lets out a short hiss and carefully extracts it, replaces it on the vanity, and swings in his seat. He stands and crosses to Twill, hands already on her arms. 

“Dearest? What’s the matter?” he asks urgently, and scans her. She has the appearance of a distraught cat, but looks uninjured. His eyes fall to the dagger on her hip. “Is that yours?”

–

Twill follows his eyes, and horror overtakes her. She shakes her head. “No, it isn’t,” she says, voice wobbling. Quickly, she pulls it from her belt and sets it on the nearby dresser, not wanting to touch it more than necessary.

“It’s one of the items from the auction,” she explains, and then begins pacing. It takes a moment, but she begins to explain everything that happened to her today–the auction, the tiefling called M, the blustery nobleman. She tells Union that she wasn’t sure why M was there, besides needling the nobleman and bothering her with questions. The strange woman just seemed to be intent on flirting and throwing money around with no actual plan.

“The nobleman won that dagger,” she says, and stabs a finger at the weapon. “And soon after he left, there were screams in the street. By the time I caught up, he was already dead, and M was at the edge of the crowd, cleaning blood from that dagger. 

“When did she put it on me? I didn’t even notice her–” Twill presses her hands to her mouth. “I told her where we’re staying. And she knows why I was even at the auction! Shit.”

–

Union stands still in the face of Twill’s pacing, watching and listening intently with his arms folded over his chest. Every so often he glances to the dagger, eventually stepping over to draw it from its sheath. Elven in make, if he had to take a guess. He slides it back into place and sets it down.

“I’m less concerned with when she put it on you and more why,” he says. “Though if she did it without your notice, that means she could be anywhere. It seems like she had an agenda, even if that agenda was to cause chaos.”

He strokes his goatee. “It might be best if we switch locations,” he continues, “just to be sure. The others should know about this as well. The authorities may want that dagger, though I’m not sure we should be the ones to deliver it.”

–

Twill takes a deep breath and shuffles closer to Union. She curls over and thumps her forehead onto his shoulder. “She was flirting a lot with me,” she says, voice a bit muffled. “Enough that even I noticed, though I was distracted by, well, everything else. Maybe the dagger is more flirting? 

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to get Morjan a birthday present. I didn’t mean to bring this down on our heads.”

–

Union can’t help a smile and pets her hair, untangling loose strands from her horns. “An odd way to flirt I’ve never heard of, but if she murdered that noble, then it’s not much of a surprise, is it?”

He picks her head from his shoulder to cup her face in both hands and show her his smile, reassuring as he can manage. “It’s not your fault. Nobody expects these things when going to an auction, of all things. Trouble just has a way of finding us no matter where we go.” He pats her cheek and lowers his hands. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

–

Twill’s returning smile is small but it shows her excitement. “I did.”

She reaches into the bag slung over her shoulder and pulls out a green and brown cloak. Syngorn’s crest adorns the area where the wearer’s heart would be; shadows and light catch strangely on the fabric.

“It belonged to an old elven warrior known for being almost invisible,” she explains. “And I know Morjan’s great at being sneaky, but this could help them even more.”

–

Union runs the fabric through his hands. Its colour and sheen remind him of something he saw recently, but can’t quite place his finger on.

“It’s beautiful,” he says. “I’m sure they’ll love it. You really do go above and beyond with gifts, love.”

–

Twill puts the cloak back in her bag, and takes Union’s hands in hers. She squeezes them and then folds their hands together against her chest. “I, um, I actually wanted to talk to you about that?” she says. “I wouldn’t have gotten something like this for anyone but you and Morjan.” She does her best to keep eye contact, since this isn’t a conversation she gets to shy away from.

“While you were away, I started sleeping in Morjan’s room, and when we were coming back to Vasselheim, I tried to explain to them that they weren’t just a substitute for you, you know? I wasn’t staying with them just because you weren’t there,” she explains. “I wanted them to know that I love them. That I’m in love with them.

“They told me that I should confess to you, but I don’t think they understood what I was trying to say. And I want to tell you how I feel, because I love you, too.”

–

Union casts his eyes down, then back up. He squeezes her hands back, once, twice, savours the warmth in her touch. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he says. “I am glad you took up my suggestion. I would hate for either of you to feel lonely. Did you tell them that exactly, or just imply it?”

–

Twill shakes her head. “I was getting to it, but then they started going on about how it was so obvious that I was in love with you, and you were in love with me.” She sighs. “It was confusing, because I thought they had feelings for you, too? I wasn’t sure why they were pushing me in that direction, and before I could ask or clarify or anything, they went outside, claiming they were going to take first watch.”

–

“Oh. That’s..unsurprising,” he decides. “The going outside and misunderstanding, I mean. The feelings part being obvious, well. Perhaps I was just blind, because neither you or Morjan’s feelings were obvious to me. Even now, that’s new. I had no idea.”

A lot of behaviours are starting to make sense, in hindsight.

“It would be worth clarifying with them why that is.” He chews the inside of his cheek. “Morjan has a tendency to run whenever their emotions become too much or they’re feeling particularly vulnerable, and matters of the heart are one of the most vulnerable things of all. Perhaps conversations like these can be done in pieces and you getting clarification is the next piece.”

–

“I think I only knew about them because I was feeling the same. Kind of like a mirror,” she explains. “I wanted to go after them, like I did in Marquet, but I didn’t. I was scared, I think. And maybe hurt, too. It felt like a rejection, but I know that’s not really what happened. 

“Yeah, I didn’t want to try talking to them again before I talked to you. Is it… Is it okay if I talk to them about this, clarifying and explaining? I don’t want to cause any problems between us. I won’t do anything unless you’re okay with it.”

–

Union nods. “I don’t think it can be a rejection if they weren’t clear on what you were trying to say,” he reasons.

“I appreciate your concern and coming to me first, but it’s alright. I think to have the capacity to love more than one person is a wonderful thing. I know it well. I’d like clarification as well, I would hate to cause Morjan undue pain. We all have a lot on our plates as it is without romance complicating everything.”

–

“It wasn’t a rejection,” she confirms, both for herself and in response to Union. “And I know I wasn’t communicating things very well.”

Twill leans forward to kiss Union’s forehead. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.

“I’ll talk to them when I give them their gift?”

–

“Best of luck, dear.” He swoops in to plant a kiss on her cheek. A good luck token, as they often shared back and forth. “If you need any help from me, I’m here.”


	6. Fiancé (Cihro & Kishore)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuddles and conversation; Cihro shares some good news

Cihro is comfortable leaving Talsin to fend for himself with Kishore’s family and calls out for them to go easy on him on his way out the door. He follows Kishore to the rooftop of her home, although follow feels like a generous word for piggybacking. He whips out the blanket she points out, drapes it over her, then slots himself against her side to catch the remains. It’s chilly; wouldn’t do him any good to catch a cold before their trip south.

“There’s something that happened earlier this week I wanna tell you about,” he broaches after a comfortable silence. His mind jumps to his most recent assassination, but he ignores it. His news is good news.

-

Kishore shoots a warning glance at her mother as Cihro ushers her out the door. She doesn’t want Venu to overwhelm Talsin, even if he’s doing magnificently at keeping up with her oft chaotic family. Venu just smiles back, serene and completely ignoring the message Kishore sends.

On the roof, with Cihro tucked beneath her arm, she watches the night sky. Under Neelam’s tutelage, she’s learning the names of the brightest stars in the sky. She doesn’t speak; Cihro has something to say, and he’s more than welcome to take his time getting there.

She looks over at him. “What is it?”

-

While Kishore turns her gaze skywards, Cihro’s drifts into the middle distance. It’s not often he sees their gardens from above. He can’t help a small, content smile, a blush creeping over his cheeks and the points of his ears. Kishore will be the second to know after Rahul, but he’s telling her because he wants to, not out of necessity.

“I’ll just get straight to it. The day Talsin arrived, he proposed to me. We’re, uh, engaged now. Thought you might wanna know.” He blows out a breath, the hardest part over and said. “It’s nice to have something..nice. With everything going on.”

-

Kishore’s eyes widen, her careful reserve falling away in surprise. That’s not at all what she was expecting him to say, not after recent events. Surprise gives way to relief, which turns into joy. A smile brightens her face, broad enough to be considered a grin.

“Of course I’d want to know,” she says, and shifts so she can grip his hands in her own. Her words are inadequate, but she hopes the strength in her hands expresses what she cannot. “I’m happy, for you both. Congratulations, Cihro.”

-

Cihro’s confident he’s never seen Kishore grin that wide before. He grins right back.

“Thanks,” he says, a little breathless despite himself. “Rahul knows. I had to tell him because I’m commissioning a ring from him. Oh, speaking of.” He slips his hands from hers and digs into the front of his shirt. He fishes out the chain of his periapt of wound closure, a heart-shaped gem enclosed in a woven black and silver mesh, but draws attention to the ring beside it. He sits it in the cradle of his palm for her to examine, treating it with a sort of reverence.

“Might be a little hard to see the colour right now, but this is what he gave me.”

-

“I thought I saw Rahul working on something new,” she muses. “He didn’t say anything, but he seemed excited to start. Thank you for commissioning him. He won’t let you down.”

She leans closer to get a better look at the ring. The moonlight is just enough to make out the details. “It’s lovely,” she says. “Truly. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Talsin.

“I know very little about weddings. I’ve never been to one, but if you want help with anything, I’m here.”

-

“I know.” He doesn’t think anybody in her family has, thus far.

“He made it himself, I think,” he adds, lifting it closer to his face to admire again. “I didn’t even know he could make jewelry. But I guess if he had the time, he could’ve taken on a lot of hobbies in a hundred and fifty years. I don’t think cooking was one of them, though.”

He tucks the ring and chain back into his shirt. “Me neither. I think I went to one when I was a kid, but I don’t remember it. Not a lot of weddings for Clasp friends, surprisingly.” He draws his corner of the blanket back around his shoulder and huddles into a ball. “I’d love your help. We’re still deciding a lot of basic stuff, like where, when, who to invite..I’m getting a better idea of all that. I think people hire someone to help plan.

“Problem is, I don’t want a lot of people knowing. I’m even worried about telling Day. About the engagement, I mean.“

-

“Someone should let Meera know to keep him out of the kitchen,” Kishore says. “If more than a century couldn’t improve his cooking… Hmm, I can see why, with the effort and skill that went into this ring.”

Kishore tugs the blanket tighter. Though she isn’t bothered by the cold, she’s more than happy to share her warmth.

“I imagine the Clasp is about as supportive as Tiamat’s cult when it comes to forming romantic attachments, let alone marriage.” Her parents are married, but that happened before they were tricked into the cult. It was always something used against them, the love they had for each other.

“My mother could be a good resource, but goliath traditions are different from what I understand, and I don’t know if she would want to talk much about my father.

“Do you think Day will react poorly? Why the hesitation?”

-

“He’s allowed to be bad at a few things,” Cihro jokes.

“You would be right. It’s why Talsin and I are so reserved about pda, even in front of you guys - we don’t want the wrong people seeing us together. The Clasp could already know, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.” Granted, Talsin had his own can of worms with showing vulnerability in front of the masses from growing up in an environment where public affection was seen as a weakness to exploit, but that was its own thing. In a similar vein, but different. Something to unlearn.

“If we’re desperate for help, I can ask,” he says. "I don’t wanna trouble her.

“No. I think he’d be excited and I want him to know. My only concern is he’s bad at lying and it might slip out or someone might see through him if they ask, y’know? That’s all.”

-

“You have to say that, you’re engaged to him,” she comments, almost dismissive in her tone, but she hasn’t quite stopped smiling yet.

“Perhaps I can see how she responds if I ask her some questions,” she says. “Though, I haven’t always had much of an interest in goliath culture, or marriage, so she might get suspicious.”

Kishore hums, thinking over her next words. “Day has kept quiet about your relationship with Talsin so far, hasn’t he? You’re right, sometimes he does say too much, or comes too close to the truth, but if you go too long without telling him, he may be hurt. Even if he understands why, he’ll be hurt. You are the first family he’s had in a long time.

"Despite circumstances, this is a sort of joy that should be shared.”

-

“It may not be happening for a while yet,” Cihro cautions. “If you want to hold off on asking, you can. Whenever it feels appropriate, I guess.”

He takes a moment to digest her advice, imagining the scenario in which he does tell Day too late and he’s hurt. It feels like a more likely scenario than Day slipping up and revealing Cihro and Talsin’s romantic involvement. And even then, that risk was one Cihro was willing to take to see the joy his engagement would bring his brother.

“You’re right,” he agrees eventually. “He’ll be over the moon to have a brother-in-law. Plus, he’s creative. He can help us.” He sighs, and leans more of his weight against Kishore’s side. “There’s a part of me that’s worried I’m jumping into this too quick, but I already knew I wanted to marry him. I just didn’t know how or when - and I still don’t. I just hope things settle down enough for us to have a wedding in peace, and I reach a point where I can wear his ring without fear of the Clasp seeing it.”

-

She nods. “Of course. I’ll keep it mind, though.” If she begins pressing too much, she fears that Venu will think she’s asking for herself. She isn’t sure if her mother, like Meera and Elspeth, would want to pester her about a non-existent love life.

“You went into the Underdark and faced a spider goddess for him,” she remarks. “It doesn’t look to me like you’re acting too quickly, especially given your caution in telling others. And you want to marry him. That supersedes everything else, doesn’t it?

“I believe that we’ll get there–to a place and time where things aren’t so dire. I don’t know when, but I have to believe that we will. It’s good to have more tangible things to fight for. I didn’t mentioned it before, but the vision Barnock gave me… It was good. We’ll get there.”

-

“Oh, right,” he half-laughs, like he’d somehow forgotten. Maybe he was trying to. “I guess I did. I’d do it again, too. Remember when I said there were a handful of people I’d walk into hell for? He’s up there. So are you.”

A large part of why Cihro fought to stay alive was simply because he had someone waiting for him. It helped him endure a lot of stress of the last several weeks.

“Yeah. I don’t need visions to know what kind of future I want, but..it’s nice to know that it exists for us. Day had a good one, too. Silver linings, right?”

-

Kishore blinks rapidly, and takes a quick breath. She hadn’t thought herself to be on that list, but maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised. “I remember.” She nudges him with her elbow, just a little bit. “You’re family; you know what I’m like. I’d gladly storm hell for the people I love.

“Before my vision, I didn’t have much direction besides survival,” she admits. “What I saw was something I hadn’t even considered for myself–a house in the country, living long enough to see a grandchild–” She shrugs. “Living for the future is part of freedom, I’ve realized. Silver linings, indeed.”

-

That’s the second instance this week Kishore’s called him family but this time, like cooked pasta, it actually sticks. He blinks, then smiles, a twinkle in his eye. “And now Talsin gets to be part of that too, right? He needs a new family, after what he’s endured.

“Sounds nice,” he admits. “Day’s involved Theotae being friendly with us and having nieces and nephews. Oh, gods - what’s she gunna think of Talsin? Do you think I could get away with telling her I’m dating a really cool high elf noble from overseas?” He shakes his head. “It’s - whatever. I would like our mom at the wedding, though.”

-

“Yes, very much so. I’m sure my mother is attempting to adopt him as we speak.” Kishore returns his smile. “Even if you weren’t getting married, he’d be an honorary Maallinen-Briar.”

When Cihro mentions Theotae, Kishore can’t help but frown. She still doesn’t know enough about her to have an informed opinion, but Day’s reactions to his sister puts Kishore on her guard. “She’s going to think Talsin is charming and good for you, because that’s true,” Kishore asserts. “If you decide to tell her the truth, that is. I hope Talsin knows that my family won’t think differently of him, regardless of how he presents himself around us.”

Kishore wishes she knew more about traveling between the planes, but that’s so far outside her experience. She’s tried to read the books Barnock gave the party, the ones about demiplanes, and it’s like they’re written in another language. “Have you sent your letter to Syngorn? Your mother should be at your wedding. I think she would want to be present.”

-

“Talsin is very adoptable,” Cihro laughs. “He needs better mother figures in his life. I think he knows your family won’t think any differently of him, but old habits are hard to break and he second guesses himself, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

He nods. “Yeah. Is it weird that I hope she replies, even if it’s a no? Acknowledgement would be nice. It was kind of an olive branch, in a way, even if she doesn’t deserve it. I’m too tired and dealing with too much to stay angry.”

He shrugs the blanket from his shoulder, stands, and gives a lazy stretch. If he gets too cozy he’ll fall asleep, and Talsin will never shut up about Kishore carrying him down from the roof fast asleep even if he finds it endearing. “We should probably go rescue him, actually. Thanks for hearing out more of my secrets. I’m..it feels weird, being as happy as I am right now when everyone else is so miserable, but I think that means I’m in a better place to help our friends.”

-

“I understand,” she says. “Better than most, possibly. The more confident we seem, the deeper our doubts run.”

Kishore makes a soft sound of agreement. “A ‘no’ is better than nothing at all. Then you’ll know to not put any more thought or effort into trying. It will be up to her to make amends, if she wishes it, and we can look for other solutions. It’s good of you to make an effort, even if she won’t see it as such.”

She stands as well, and folds the blanket back into a neat square before stashing it beneath one of the eaves. “You’re entitled to that happiness,” she tells him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “And I’m happy for you. Thank you for letting me be one of the first to know.” She smiles again, softer, and drops a kiss to the top of Cihro’s head.

-

He relaxes. A lot of things he knows, rationally, but hearing them from Kishore feels like she’s given him permission to accept them.

“Thanks for listening, always.” Cihro steps in to hug her around the middle, then withdraws. He backs up, takes a running start, and leaps off the roof with a grin.


	7. Parent (Kishore & Cihro)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here’s a talk that took place well before the start of the cinder arc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [(link to the contents of theotae’s letter)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795222/chapters/54963838)

Kishore settles beneath her favorite tree in the garden. It’s an old oak with a crooked trunk and branches that look like spindly, grasping fingers. Leaves are just beginning to turn brown, and she looks forward to seeing the gardens covered in snow.

Before she can begin meditating, Elspeth’s voice echoes in her head. 

“Cihro’s looking for you,” she chimes. “You didn’t go super far did you? If you went patrolling again, I’m telling Meera.”

Kishore is familiar with Elspeth’s casual use of her spells, this one in particular. She responds, voice low. “I didn’t leave the estate grounds. I’m at the big oak. Tell Cihro that he’s welcome to join me.”

There’s no answer, and one isn’t expected. She rests her head and back against the tree. She stretches out her legs, ankles crossed. Her eyes close while she waits.

-

It doesn’t take Cihro long to reach Kishore. He’s not used to going through one person to find another, especially with goliaths - Kishore is hard to miss and he’s good at searching. Fortunately, there’s Elspeth.

He approaches her with the soft crunch of autumn grass. “Hey,” he greets, and stops just at the end of her feet. “I wasn’t sure if Elspeth was rephrasing when she said I was welcome to join you, is now a good time?”

-

Kishore’s eyes open as soon as she hears footfalls.

“Cihro,” she replies, and her expression softens–not quite a smile, but nearly. She pats the grass beside her. “Elspeth knows the importance of delivering an exact message. I’m not busy.”

He looks like himself–normal–for the most part. Even so, there’s a sliver of tension or annoyance that she isn’t used to seeing. “Is something wrong?”

-

Cihro smiles, nods, and gratefully plunks down next to her, legs crossed. His back is slumped in a half-moon, shoulders over his knees. His weight shifts so his arm lightly touches hers.

“I wrote to Theotae a few days ago,” he explains, diving right in. “I just got a reply.” He reaches into his pocket and fishes out a folded note, its wax seal - as intricate as any elven thing - broken. “It’s - I didn’t expect it to annoy me as much as it did. Here.” He offers it, pinched between two fingers.

-

Kishore pushes back slightly against him, just enough resistance to acknowledge his presence.

“Is this about your mother?” She takes the letter and unfolds it. Her eyes move back and forth over the elegant script, narrowing as she goes. Once she finishes, she hands the letter back. There’s a sour look on her face.

“How long ago did your mother leave Syngorn?”

-

His smile hooks into a wry, almost weary grin. “That looks like the face I made when I read it.“ He returns the letter to its pocket with a sigh.

“I don’t have an exact number,” he says. “More than forty-five years ago, though. Maybe more than fifty? I dunno how long she traveled before she hit Terrah and met my dad or how long she knew him before they had me. I never asked because it’s not something she ever talked about with me.”

-

“Her pleasantries are disingenuous,” Kishore states, “or borderline insulting. I didn’t quite know if I actually liked you and Day when we encountered her, but Day’s reaction in particular left an impression.”

She frowns. “Theotae had time to find her answers, regardless.

"It seems like important family history, but don’t think elves rely on oral traditions the same way goliaths do. Can you think of a reason why she never talked about it? Your father might know. Is he still in Terrah?”

-

“It is insulting,” he agrees. “She pretends like what she did never happened, or it’s like she knows and rubs it in our face with stuff like this. I can’t tell what her angle is.”

He shrugs, then grimaces. “Kind of?” he offers, voice peaking. “His body is there, or outside of it. He’s dead, so I can’t really ask, but I have my own theories.

“I think it was too recent for her to talk about with me and I was so young - maybe she wanted to keep me separate or not trouble me with it. I didn’t even know about the Raethran family until recently. More questions to ask if we find her, I guess.”

-

“Just know that if–when–we go to the Feywild, I’m with you and Day. On your side. If she tries to gloss over the hurt she’s caused, or is spiteful, I can’t promise not to say anything.” She doesn’t think that Cihro doubts her conviction, but she feels it needs to be said.

Kishore feels the blood wick away from her face, and she’s strangely grateful that her skin is already pale. “Oh. I didn’t know, I-I’m sorry,” she says, haltingly. “I just assumed they weren’t–” She shakes her head. “How young were you, if I can ask?”

-

“Thanks,” he says, pushing into her arm with his. It’s a relief to hear, like he doesn’t have to brace himself anymore. “She just might. It’s good to have you on our side. You’re a lot tougher than us.”

He gives a short laugh and flaps his hand. “It’s okay,” he assures her quickly. “It’s so obvious to me that I forget that it’s not to everyone else. I forget that divorces are a thing sometimes.”

He sighs out longer, stretching his shoulders forward with his hands threading into the grass. “Eleven, I think? It was a landslide, they were common. We moved to Emon shortly after and things kind of went to shit for me there.” He unfolds upright and shoots her an easy smile. “No need to feel bad about asking, though. I’ve come to terms with it.”

-

She shrugs. “I don’t know about tougher. I am what I’ve had to be.”

Relief washes over her at his response, and she nods. “It sounds like a dangerous place to grow up, but I’m the last person who should comment on that.

“You were older than I was when my dad properly joined the cult,” Kishore muses, soft. “Not by much, and it’s not the same, not at all. I’m glad you had him for as long as you did.

“I don’t truly speak from experience, but wouldn’t it be more harmful over time to just cut ties and move on to the next thing. That’s what it sounds like your mother’s done, especially since you didn’t know about Day or Theotae. My perspective is narrow enough that I don’t understand why she would allow that.”

-

“Not quite as dangerous as a cult mine, no,” he admits. “Housing accommodations were made with the landscape in mind. I guess that was just one of the risks that came with his job.”

He gives a somber nod. “I’m sorry you didn’t have more time with your dad. I feel like the earlier a kid is separated from their parents, the easier they are to manipulate.”

He braces an elbow on his knee and props his fist against his cheek, fingers plucking at individual blades of grass. “Maybe. I don’t know if that’s what she did or not. I think if she’d written me when Day was born, I might’ve been more bitter than I already was. I was, uh, not an easy teenager to deal with.”

He scratches at his temple. “Theotae, though, I dunno how I would’ve reacted to that when I was a kid. I do wonder if mom tried to convince her to leave with her.”

-

“I would like to see it someday. Terrah.” She gazes out into the middle distance for a moment or two. “Having the freedom to travel for the sake of it, seeing things I’ve only heard about–it sounds nice.”

She pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. It’s not a common position for her, but she always feels safer for it. “I had my mother still, but even if I had both of them, it was always a battle to stay ourselves,” she explains. “My father didn’t have that. They did something to him–he didn’t, or couldn’t, recognize me the few times we crossed paths. And when my siblings were born, it was the same. My mother says he knew her, but only sometimes.

“I’ve met one easy teenager in my whole life, so that’s unsurprising. Even I was… needlessly belligerent. I resented my family because I didn’t know what else to do.” Her mouth pulls into an abashed grimace.

“Knowing what little I do about Syngorn, it would make sense that Theotae decided to stay. She seems to care a great deal about her titles and status.”

-

“I’m sure we could go someday,” he promises. “I went there with Day and Talsin last year, so. Only problem is it takes a while.”

Cihro starts pulling up strands of grass into his fist, shaking his head. “I know you’ve heard it before, but that’s unfair. You deserved better.”

He chuckles. “Doesn’t stop me from feeling bad, though. I didn’t know how to mourn or make do without dad, so I took it out on mom. That’s where my gambling addiction came in and I fell into debt and..that’s how the whole Clasp thing started. They saw I was hurting and took advantage of that.

“Yeah,” he agrees, not without its edge of bitterness. “A little too much, if you ask me.”

-

Kishore smiles. “I don’t mind a long trip. There’s a lot to see and the last time I was in the Cliffkeep Mountains, I wasn’t able to appreciate it. Getting used to freedom and the sky all at once was overwhelming. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

She shifts, sitting cross-legged, and nudges Cihro with her knee. “I don’t know if there’s any real fairness in the world that we don’t make for ourselves, but I appreciate the sentiment. There was always that sliver of doubt–the thought that maybe what they were doing was right, because why else would they? I know better now.”

After gathering her thoughts, she says, “That wasn’t fair to you, either. The Clasp is… the more I learn about it, the more familiar it sounds. Organizations have a way of manipulating people. They find the cracks in our armor that we may not even know are there.

“I won’t argue with that,” Kishore hums. She quirks an eyebrow. “I’m surprised she didn’t close her letter with her entire bloodline alongside the titles. Is that protocol, or is she trying to prove some point?”

-

He nods. “Then we’ll make it happen.”

“That makes two of us,” he says. “A shame we had to learn so much on our own. I do wish I’d appreciated my mom’s wisdom more when she was actually around to give it, but it’s never too late to take old lessons on board.” He sways at her nudge, pliant and relaxed. “Growing never really stops. I’ve learned a lot from you.”

He laughs this time, and deposits the picked grass onto Kishore’s closest leg. “No clue. But I was thinking I should make up some of my own titles to add to the bottom of my next letter. She’ll either think it’s amusing or see that I’m making fun of her.”

-

She makes a soft sound of agreement. “The lessons our parents try to teach us when we’re young aren’t always meant to be understood or absorbed then, but instead are a cache of resources for later, when we need it most.

“I’ve learned from you as well,” she says. “I’m glad for that, and I’m glad to have you in my life.”

Kishore studies the blades of grass he’s bestowed upon her, expression intense and serious. She takes a pinch of the greenery and carefully sprinkles it in Cihro’s hair. She leans back and nods, as if satisfied with her work. “If you’re looking for title suggestions, amateur gardener comes to mind.”

-

“If I can remember them all,” he jokes. “But, I think if my dad wasn’t who he was, I’d be a lot worse off. A lot less myself.

“I’ll start a list. You probably don’t want me near any actual potted plants, though - they tend to die if I get too close.” He shakes his head.

“So, now you’ve got a bit more of the life story,” he says, ruffling the grass from his hair. Whether he actually removes it or buries them deeper is a mystery. Something for future Cihro to discover or someone else to point out to him when he starts shedding it around the mansion.

“It’s not something I’ve really shared around before. It’s kinda nice? I refused to for a long time because it used to just bring me pain. And I guess it still can, just not in the same way.”

-

“My mother says I remind her of my father. I don’t know if that’s in personality, or if she just means my markings.” Kishore gestures to the marble-like patterns on her face, neck, and arms. “They’re unusual for goliaths, but my father, Rahul, and I share them.

“Your father had a sense of humor, then?” She doesn’t outright smile, but her tone shows what her face doesn’t.

“I know next to nothing about plant care,” she says, and waves a hand as if to say she doesn’t plan to learn about it. “That’s Neelam’s area. I’ll be sure to warn her next time you visit.

“I almost feel as if I’ve shown all my cards, in regards to my history. It was unavoidable, with everything that’s happened. Some things are difficult to talk about, but being known by people I trust is better than keeping it all to myself.”

She nods in understanding. “I’m happy to hear whatever you’re willing to share. It’s good to know that pain changes, and aches less later on.”

-

“Maybe both,” Cihro muses. “I guess you don’t really have a way of knowing, but I hope she means it in the best way possible.”

He cracks a grin, silently prideful. “Of course. Maybe that’s what drew mom to him so much - he was a total goofball. I think we also look a lot alike, but it’s hard to remember his face. I have his eye colour, at least.

“It can be hard, but sometimes it’s good when we’re forced out of our comfort zone. It’s situational, but done right, it can make us grow.”

He thumps his head against her arm, then begrudgingly clambers to his feet and dusts his legs. “I should probably start working on a reply for the sis. I feel a little more mentally prepared for it. Thanks for hearing me out.”

-

“Knowing my mother, she sees it as a good thing regardless. I could ask, but I don’t know if I’m ready for an answer. Not yet.

“We carry certain parts of our parents with us. It’s good that you have more than one from your father,” she remarks.

“I only hope the amount of discomfort I feel in general means I’m due for a growth spurt.”

A brief smile flits across her face when he headbutts her, and once he’s standing, she tugs once on the edge of his tunic, near where the family blessing is embroidered. “You don’t need to thank me. It’s not a burden to make the time, and I’m happy to talk, especially if it helps.”

-

Cihro glances down to the source of the tug and his grin morphs from cheeky to warm and genuine. He smooths out the fabric and realizing he has an angle on Kishore he doesn’t often see, quickly swoops in to plant a kiss on the top of her head. He turns just as fast for the manor and flips her off over his shoulder.

“Enjoy your meditation,” he calls out behind him.


End file.
